Balance
by Yanagi-wa
Summary: Tony and Director Vance have a little discussion about why teams succeed, or fail.


Balance

betaed by jordre and Jake

Tony leaned on the railing of the mezzanine, looking down into the bullpen. He liked it up here; it gave him a chance to watch the entire squad room, and the view out the windows across the river wasn't too shabby either.

He didn't turn his head when he felt a presence behind him. "Mr. Director."

Leon Vance had given up any assumptions he'd ever had about Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Jr. They were mostly wrong. "Special Agent ... or should I call you LtCmdr?"

"Either is fine. I tend to like to keep the two jobs as separate as I can." Tony turned to smile at the director.

"That's a good idea. How are you doing?" Vance was worried about all of Gibbs' team. They'd left for two weeks of vacation, but come back after only a week. They'd spent the second week hanging around Gibbs' house, disappearing into the depths of Quantico and riding their motorcycles at breakneck speeds on every secondary road in the area.

Tony shrugged. "Good. Had a nice vacation. We were going to go on down to Louisiana, but Remy's Gran said not. There's a family reunion at Christmas, and she wanted to wait until then. I'll make sure he makes it."

"That's good." He started to say more, but Cynthia, his personal aide, handed him a report. He leaned against the railing to read. When he was done he just sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose right between his eyes, and grumbled, "I don't get it."

Tony glanced at the report cover, but it was blank. "Don't get what?"

Leon Vance was no fool, no matter that he'd acted just like one with this man, so he showed Tony the report and waited while Tony read it. "Okay, you've got two teams working at 96 to 98 percent solve rates and three that are at ... 84, 86, and 81 percent respectively. Two great and three not so. Explain, please."

"The two teams who are in the 90's are Gibbs and Balboa, both put together by the team lead. The teams in the 80's, I put together. I handpicked every member. They should be doing a lot better." Vance watched emotions and thoughts chase themselves across Tony's face.

"I'd like to see the files on each team. I might be able to come up with something." Tony waited while Vance chewed that over.

"Okay. I'll get them. Meet me in Conference Room Three." Vance left.

Tony got his phone out and called Gibbs to tell him what was going on. When Gibbs just grunted, he hung up. Gibbs was in combat with HR for some reason. Tony left him to it and headed for the conference room. He settled at the table and took the first file Vance handed him. "You don't have to hang if you've got something you need to be doing."

Vance shook his head. "I need to be figuring out why I have two exceptionally effective teams and three that are marginal ... at best. SecNav is not pleased. NCIS DC's average solve rate has fallen by two percent since I took over. That doesn't look good, and I'm not standing for it. I want answers." He visibly calmed himself. It wasn't Tony's fault; he was on one of the two most effective teams there were.

Teams in other divisions had solve rates almost as good, but he was head of the DC Division, as well as Director, and it didn't look good when three teams in his division, his handpicked teams, were falling down on the job.

Tony nodded. "Okay. Gotcha. Let me see what I can figure out." He returned to his reading, groping for coffee that wasn't there.

He felt a cup nudge his hand and glanced up to see a smiling Cynthia nudging his hand with the cup. "Sugar and hazelnut."

"Thanks, Cynthia; you're a lifesaver," Tony flirted a bit.

"Can I be cherry?" Cynthia smiled at Tony. She didn't mind a bit of flirting from Tony; he was well aware that she was happily married and had two boys.

"You can be any flavor you want, as long as you keep the seal milk coming." He popped his neck, winced, and finished, "And some Grunt candy wouldn't go amiss."

"Coming right up. Two or four?" Cynthia hadn't worked for a quasi-military organization most of her life without picking up a few things. Tony held up four fingers.

Vance rubbed his temple. "A couple for me as well. Thanks."

Cynthia went out to retrieve the requested meds.

Tony closed the file and picked up another. He was reading when Cynthia returned with two cups of water and the required pills. Vance took his, popped them into his mouth, and managed to swallow them. He wondered how big the things actually were; they felt like footballs going down. A loud crunch startled him. "What the ...?" Subsequent crunching made him shudder as he realized that Tony was chewing the pills.

"You think I'm actually going to try to swallow four 20-mm-by-12-mm pills, 5 mm thick? Besides, they work quicker." Tony followed his pills with a huge gulp of coffee, then went back to his reading again.

Vance shut up, trying to relax and let the pills do their job. He was seriously pissed that his handpicked teams were doing so poorly. He was proud of the two other teams and resolved to show it more.

Tony took his time as he read each file; took the time to actually read each agent's individual skill sheet, then settled back to think.

Finally, he shook his head. "I can see exactly what's wrong, but you're not gonna like it."

Vance grabbed his patience as it started out the door. "I don't care if I like it or not. Out with it."

Tony pulled a small knife from somewhere ―Vance seriously did not want to know― and balanced it on the tip of his index finger. "The teams you set up lack balance."

Vance kept his eyes on the knife, fascinated by how easily Tony kept it balanced on his finger. "Balance? I don't get it."

"Each team you selected is tech-heavy. Now, no one knows that tech is vital better than I do. But you need a balanced team to get anywhere." He moved the knife, nudging it gently with a finger; it fell off, and he caught it before it hit the table. "If you've got too much of one thing, or the other, the balance is off. If the balance is off ..." he tucked the knife away. "Everything falls apart."

"Okay, balance. I'm not sure I understand what you mean. What kind of balance?" This was getting interesting.

"You have too many people with the same skills and none with others. In my SEAL team, I've got munitions, infiltration, sharpshooter, mechanic, explosives/demolition, and languages. My men are good at more than one of the skills. Cross-training, if you will. The teams that are failing don't have the necessary spread of skills. Let's take my NCIS team as an example. We've got Gibbs, who is a problem-solver; puzzles just make him crazy. He's also a good liaison with the Marines. Then there's Tim; he's a computer god, seriously, but he's well-grounded in other things as well. Finance, for one. I'm a cop. I think like a cop, work like a cop, and I'm good with people. And liaise well with Navy. Ziva was, frankly, dumb muscle, with a side of expertise in Middle Eastern affairs. Not like I'm not one too. Then we bring in a TDA if we need skills we don't have on team. Like a profiler, but that's changing as I get better. So ... Balance."

Vance felt like he'd been slugged in the head. "Okay. I see. I actually set my teams up for failure before they even got started. So, now what?"

Tony sighed. "Send about half of them back to Cyber Crimes. They're not really field agents, no matter how badly you want them to be. They're awkward geeks. They make everyone uncomfortable. No people skills to speak of, and not that good at detecting anything outside of a bug in a program. The rest ... send to other teams; make them the IT expert for a team. You need to bring in agents or promote people in-house. It's not unmanageable. You'll just have to admit that you've made some unfortunate decisions in your team structure and fix it."

Vance nodded. "I see. So, I need a cop, a puzzle solver, a computer expert, a public relations person, and leave a desk open for experts as needed."

Tony nodded. "And don't go at it hammer an' tongs. Take it easy. Pick one or two people who are obviously wrong and move them, bring in someone to replace them. If they have to be demoted, move them out of the office first. Then demote them. Bring in some up-and-coming young things and put them on one of your problem teams; don't move anyone else until you see who's working and who isn't." Tony made a face. "And why am I beating this particular dead horse? You know more about this than I do."

Vance shrugged. "It's nice to watch you work. I've got some plans in mind. Oh, and HR wants you all, and I do mean all, to take a sensitivity and team-building seminar. You can thank Miss Sciuto for that. And don't try to get out of it. And do not bring your SEALs. They're ... " he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted without offense.

"Wild as a march hare. You think I'm bad with the practical jokes." Tony smirked. "Remy short-sheeted an Admiral. Dean glued all the ammo in a box together, then gave it to some jerk who was always claiming he could load anything into anything." Tony shook his head at that. "And what part of 7.62x39 is not the same as 5.56x29 or .223 ..." Tony waggled his hand, "depending ... doesn't he understand? Cosmo nearly poisoned us all with jug wine fortified with Everclear. Idiot. So ... see?"

Vance shook his head. "I do. And you're all bug-house nuts. So ... do not traumatize the instructor. Please."

Tony shrugged. "Okay, I'll try. But if the idiot keeps telling me I 'need' to do something, all bets are off. And 'we' only means the nutcase has a mouse in his pocket." He looked up when someone knocked on the door. "Enter." Gibbs stuck his head into the room.

"Caught a case. Grab your gear."


End file.
